Before Me Lies Your Letter
by Agitated Brains
Summary: A few years after the war old friends rekindle a friendship through an age old mode of communication: Letters. Post series/war fic. Zutara - friendship, eventually romance.
1. Chapter 1

**My Dad got really into the recent John Adams mini-series and I watched a few episodes with him and I liked it well enough, but**

**My Dad got really into the recent John Adams mini-series and I watched a few episodes with him and I liked it well enough, but what I was really taken with was John and Abigail Adam's extensive letter writing. I could just see Zuko and Katara starting their post-series/war relationship with letters - the hawk mail delivery system seemed reliable enough for what it is... And this little thing resulted.**

_Disclaimer: Avatar is not, nor will it ever be, mine. Unfortunately._

_Spoilers: Up to the finale _

_Rating: PG13 _

_Pairing: Zutara _

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_Sir, more than kisses, letters mingle souls. For, thus friends absent speak.  
- John Donne_

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He found the first letter at the bottom of a pile of papers his staff had labeled "diplomatic relations." The scroll was made of thick Water Tribe paper – the kind that is hard to stain, with ink that rarely runs. Her seal was the same of her father's, the chief of the Southern Tribe, so he did not scold his attendants for their mistake. He did, however, make it perfectly clear that her letters were never again to be placed at the bottom of any pile.

It was a simple letter really, asking about the details of the upcoming international conference of leaders – the first in quite some time to be held in the Fire Nation. She wondered how many Earth Kingdom politicians would come, inquired about the expected number of parties they would be forced to attend before they could talk about the real issues, and asked whether or not she should come a few weeks earlier to help prepare. He'd smiled to himself, thinking of the multitude of servants who had been preparing for months and mused on how long time seemed in between his friends' visits to the Fire Nation. These days it was rare for the whole group to all be together at one time. Usually the conferences served as impromptu reunions but the year before only he and Aang had made it to Omashu. Suki had been in her ninth month and Sokka refused to let anyone else but his sister near his wife, and Toph was facing The Boulder in what critics were calling the rematch of the century. The Boulder was pummeled of course, the child was born without incident, and he sparred with Aang in between meetings. All in all, it hadn't been such a bad conference, if a bit lacking in some regards.

At the end of the letter she reprimanded him for not corresponding with her more regularly. _Even The Duke, _she wrote,_ finds time to write down a few words for me. But you, oh honorable Fire Lord, have not a moment to stop and think of me? _He'd smiled again at that, although for different reasons than before.

She went on to say that she would forgive him for the time being, because she knew he was new the to inner workings of a loving family. _Families do not forget one another, even if the distance between them is great – Please, try to remember that._

When he was done reading he stood and went to the window. The view from his office was spectacular – it was from the palace after all – but he always wished he could see more of the sea. He suddenly longed for travel, for sleeping bags and laughter around the campfire. The moon was high, for it was often very late when he reached the bottom of piles, and he tried to remember if the night sky looked different in the south. He was always too occupied to take in the scenery during his visits to the poles. He looked down at her words scrawled across the paper and missed the sound of her voice.

_All I do is remember,_ he wrote back. _It is not for lack memory or caring that I do not write, _he assured._ I have not written because I am a busy "honorable Fire Lord" and because – you are right – I am not used to the responsibilities expected of an appreciated family member. And for that lapse in knowledge, I blame you. Yes, that's right oh mighty healer – you are at fault. You were supposed to teach me these things. I knew nothing of normal family behavior and since you were (as Toph so often lovingly put it) "the mom" of our group you should have stepped up to the task and made me learn the important stuff. I, obviously, cannot be held accountable for your mistakes._

He dutifully went on to inform her that she would have to go to at least four parties, that the number of Earth Kingdom politicians was _too many_, and that she should probably come a week or two early to make sure _he _was prepared.

Historians, many years later, note that this is the first substantial written interaction between the two of them. Many years before that, he only recalls that he sent out his reply the morning after he received her letter, and spent the next two weeks anxious for her reply and her wrath.

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**Hope you liked it. I may turn it into some sort of story if I find the time. But fair warning now, I'm an inconsistent updater. **

**I love constructive criticism, so let me know what you think of it please.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Here is chapter 2, but don't get to used to the quick update - this one was already written when I posted the last one. **

**Enjoy.**

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_The best time to frame an answer to the letters of a friend, is the moment you receive them. Then the warmth of friendship, and the intelligence received, most forcibly cooperate.  
- William Shenstone_

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Writing to her extended adopted family was not exactly something Katara looked forward to with delight. Now that is not to say that she did not love the correspondence. With each note she received and every reply she sent back there came a warm, happy feeling and a sense that she was connected with the world outside the South Pole. She liked getting letters from the people she loved and liked letting them know that she loved them back. But, she found the actual physical act of writing – of putting ink to paper – more than a little arduous. Water tribe paper (in order to last in freezing, wet conditions) was thick and sturdy. It was made from some sort of animal hide – she wasn't sure the exact kind, but believed it was something of the artic-moose-vulture variety. It required the writer to press down hard in order to make a permanent, legible mark. So, while she was by no means a lazy correspondent, it normally took her a few days to motivate herself into writing up a response.

Of course, he always managed to mess up things.

_I am not your mother! I cannot understand why everyone always says that. Just because I took it upon myself to make sure all of you were fed does not mean I was motherly – it means I was responsible! And thank the spirits I was, otherwise you would have all starved to death! What choice did I have? Constantly, I surrounded by boys who had no knowledge of the concept of personal hygiene and Toph who simply didn't care. If I hadn't acted we would have all suffocated from the smell. It was more for my own peace of mind than for your wellbeing._

She stopped after finishing the first sloppily written paragraph. It was late in the day and much too dark for letter writing but once again Zuko pushed her to act rashly.

"The mom of the group" she quoted with disdain, snatching up his letter from where she had angrily tossed it. Leave it to Toph to come up with the most infuriating, catchy phrases imaginable.

"My fault," she murmured with disdain._ I treat him like a person instead of an infant and he accuses me of neglect. _She sighed to herself as she reread his closing remarks – _Come then, early, before the demanding crowds arrive and I am too swamped to even look in your general direction, let alone spend time with you. Come and teach me a lesson or two._

He was baiting her. She sighed and leaned back into the strange furry chair Sokka had invented for Suki's birthday. (It was like a throne filled and covered with furs and despite its ridiculous name – _The Fluffy Wuffy Love Chair_ – it was remarkably comfortable. Everyone in the South Pole had one. Sokka was planning on marketing it to some of the colder southern Earth Kingdom cities.)

There were different sides to Zuko, different patterns of behavior that she had only just begun to figure out. There was the snarky, somewhat cruel side of him that she had encountered in the beginnings of their adventures. The nervous, overeager side of him that strived to please and impress. The sullen, quiet boy she had met under ground in the Earth Kingdom. The driven man who valued justice and honor above all. The somewhat dorky kid, who told corny jokes and did voices and made tea. The righteous ruler who preserved rights, improved lives as best he could, and refused to sacrifice the weak for the comfort of the powerful.

As she read between his neatly written lines, she pondered which Zuko was writing to her. Was this a new person wrapped up in duty and stress and boredom, or the same boy she'd always known revealing an old hidden part of himself?

It was incredibly confusing.

The letter had come much faster than she expected. She'd been in the healing huts all day dealing with mild cases of frostbite and bending injuries. It was boring and tedious work. Master Pakku (or Grandpakku as he was referred to by Sokka) had brought many warriors from the northern tribe, but no healers. It was just like a man to bring soldiers to a place that needed mending rather than battle. She wasn't denied from the sparring rings of course. He'd learned his lesson well enough all those years ago. She trained young benders when from time to time. But, someone needed to tend to the sick and old and injured.

And so, when she'd made her way back her hut in the near darkness, she'd nearly missed the red scroll in the mail pouch hanging outside the entrance to her home. The pouches were another one of her brother's ideas. He'd been inspired by the complicated mail sorting facility at Ba Sing Se. Hawks all flew to one building and were sorted and delivered from there. And so he'd made a new tower in the center of the village (well it was more like a large town now, maybe even a small city). There, hawks came, dropped off letters and warmed up before flying out to the rest of world.

Her brother had done much for the tribe since they'd returned from the Fire Nation. He'd come home with his head full of ideas and his bags full of badly drawn plans. She'd helped with the bigger things - the buildings and walls.

Her contributions had been useful and appreciated but perhaps a little less grand.

Katara didn't need the spot light, didn't want it. She was happy to watch and support her loved ones in every way she could. Her romantic relationship with Aang, although ultimately doomed, lasted as long as it perhaps due to that characteristic. She was what all good water tribe women were supposed to be, self-sacrificing and reliable. But there was a part her – the part that had wore face paint and veils and challenged bigoted old masters and held up coal for fighting – that needed more. _There is more work to be done out there_ it would whisper at odd moments - when overbearing mothers thrust their children's splinters in her face, on days when there were no injuries at all, or when she'd look to the glittering horizon when it was near sunset.

And so she looked at her friend's request and thought of bright flowers and hungry children and giant waterfalls and shattered war veterans and fire and water clashing in the sparring arena.

_Clearly there is much for you to learn_, she wrote. _I will be there two weeks early and hopefully, by the time the other guests arrive you will somewhat resemble a respectable leader. But, it is still a few months before then and I expect you to keep up with your letters. This will be your first lesson: always reply when someone writes to you, even if it is just a few lines, to let them know you appreciate the work they've put into contacting you._

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_**Let me know what you think. **_


	3. Chapter 3

_What a heavenly morning! All the bells are ringing; the sky is so golden and clear - and before me lies your letter._

- Robert Schumann to Clara Wieck (who eventually became Clara Schumann)

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It was late, very late, _too _late when he finally read the last report, signed the last document, pushed writing utensils and parchment away from him and put his head to his desk and closed his eyes. There was only four hours till daylight and, he thought, maybe it would be better to just stay here until then – save him the walk from his office to his bedroom and back. And after all sleep was sleep, even if it took place hunched over on a hard wooden desk. He felt what little energy he had seep out of him, he closed his eyes and-

"My Lord?"

He groaned.

"Kyung, _why _are you still here?"

"My Lord's work was not yet done and as his Lordship's head personal secretary-"

"I'm making a new rule."

He blearily looked up at the sixty-year-old (some would say severe looking) woman standing next to his desk.

"From now on all secretaries, even the head ones-"

"I'm the only head secretary my Lord."

"All of them, including _you_, must leave the palace and _go home _at a reasonable hour."

She arched an eyebrow at him, in a matter that reminded him of some of his more terrifying boyhood tutors.

"Your work was not finished at a reasonable hour my Lord."

She was a frightening woman. It was part of the reason he had hired her in the first place - she could scare off angry nobles that showed up without an appointment with a mere glance.

"I'm aware. But my work is _my work _not yours and only I will stay up late to do it, no one else."

"It is my job to make sure you're organized-"

"Kyung-"

"I cannot do my job, I cannot make sure that all the things that need to be done_ are_ done and in their proper place if I am not here my Lord. And, so as long as you are working, I am working."

It was a speech he'd heard from her before. He stood from his desk and stretched. He tried, as he often did in such situations, to imagine what Iroh would do, how he would handle a stubborn secretary. But alas he knew that he lacked most of his uncle's charms - mainly his quick wit and (what some people [women] called _dashing_) smile.

He rubbed his eyes.

"Not anymore. I've made a new rule. Earlier bed time for you."

"_My Lord-" _

"You also can't do your job if your unconscious, which is what you'll be in the middle of the day if you don't sleep. Last thing I need is you fainting on the job at the same exact time I do."

If Zuko didn't know any better, he would have thought he'd spied a small smile from the older woman.

"I am made of stronger stuff than that my Lord."

He nodded, quietly laughing to himself.

"Good to know. But it doesn't matter because I've made a new rule, and you see I'm the Fire Lord and I don't know what you've heard but the Sages tell me that means my word is law."

"Not when it comes to office work my Lord."

"Don't think I won't ask the sages about that."

"I am sure you will my Lord."

He groaned again and opened the doors that lead out into the hall. Kyung followed as he made his way down the darkened corridor. Three guards followed them, their armor clanking.

"I'm going to bed now."

"Very good my Lord, but first-"

"Dear Agni, please tell me there's nothing more to sign."

"No my Lord, nothing to sign, just to read."

"Kyung I'm done. I'll read whatever it is in the morning."

His secretary pulled a scroll from her pocket.

"Are you sure my Lord? You asked me to give it to you when all the rest of the work was done."

And then he remembered. He stopped walking and turned to look at the rolled up piece of parchment she held out to him.

"_My Lord,"_ she'd said, early that morning, in the quiet voice she only used when there were a large amount other people around_, "you requested that I deliver this to you straight away when it arrived." _

Amid chaos of aids scurrying about, informing him of schedule changes and other things he wouldn't remember and they'd have to remind him of a thousand times before the day was through, Kyung had placed the scroll, with it's blue seal and think paper, in front of him.

He'd snatched it up from the desk, eager and smiling much wider than was normal for the Fire Lord at such an early hour (or _ever_ really).

_Finally._

He had started unraveling it when suddenly he stopped. He froze.

"No."

"No, my Lord?"

He stared at the scroll as if it might bite him.

"I shouldn't read this now."

"You shouldn't?

"No. It's… There's too much to do, I shouldn't rush through it."

It was a statement but he'd looked up at Kyung with questioning eyes as if asking permission. Kyung (although he couldn't fathom how) understood.

"I see. A personal correspondence then for when you have a free moment, my Lord?

"Yeah! I mean, uh, that's accurate. Correct. Yes."

Kyung had nodded and gently took the scroll from his hands.

Now, in the darkened hallway, she handed it back to him. He took it and held it lightly in his hands, as if it were a fragile thing that might shatter in his grip.

"I will take my leave now, My Lord," said Kyung, her voice low, as if she was telling him a secret.

He nodded, his eyes on the scroll and it wasn't until Kyung was almost out of sight that he remembered to say goodnight. She turned back at the sound of his voice and Zuko thought he saw that quick flash of a smile again – although he was sure it must have been an odd trick of the light.

"Goodnight, my Lord. I hope you find your correspondence satisfactory."

She turned a corner and was gone, leaving him alone in dark… alone with his three guards.

"Late night huh boys," he said as he started walking again.

"Yes, my Lord," they said in unison, following him.

"Although, I guess this is the norm for you guys. You're normal shift?"

"Yes, my Lord."

"Great."

When he at last alone, _really _alone, in the privacy of his bedroom, he sat himself down on the side of his bed and unrolled the letter. He blinked tiredly at the sea of words in front of him and was afraid, for a moment, that he would not be able to keep his eyes open long enough to reach any of it. But, as soon as he read the first line he found himself alert and awake in a way he hadn't expected… in a way he hadn't been in a long time.

Her first lines were full of the spark and passion he remembered, the outrage he'd hoped to inspire with his silly teasing and he felt nearly giddy as he read them. The rest of the letter was general news about her brother's family and the rest of their friends. Sokka's family was growing as was Toph's wrestling federation and Aang's number of disciples. All very interesting of course, but it wasn't until the end that he sat up straight and let the excitement flow through him properly.

A childish thought danced across his mind: _My friend is coming. My friend will be here soon. _

She would come and distract him from all the planning, all the stress. She would drag him out of his office and his aides would be helpless to stop her. Perhaps they would gape at her audacity, her foreign brazenness. He nearly laughed at the thought of it, tired as he was. He would take her on a tour of the capital, show her his mother's gardens, they would spar – at last a real challenge (he had not been defeated in months and it was infuriating).

Smiling stupidly, he reread the letter perhaps three times, before rushing over to his desk and pulling out his writing materials.

_You claim not to be motherly and then you immediately instruct me on proper behavior and letter writing etiquette. And what do you know of it anyway? Is there some sort of charm school for unruly water benders in the South Pole that I wasn't aware of? Was it there that you learned how to scold tired Fire Lords on things they've been trained to do since birth? _

_But you're right we probably would have starved without you. Actually, there are days where I sometimes miss those salty dishes you used to make. Everything here is very spicy – very good mind you – but you can only have so much of one sort of food for so long before it becomes boring. I think I'm looking forward to the international cuisine at the conference the most. Maybe, when you get here you can sneak into the kitchens and trick my cooks into making some Southern dishes? _

The next day he fell asleep in at least two different meetings but Kyung was there to subtly poke him in the side at the appropriate times. And he hardly cared about her stern looks because she had already posted his mail that morning.


End file.
